


A Ha'Penny Will Do

by cat_77



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Gen, Holiday Fic Exchange, Mild Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-16
Updated: 2012-12-16
Packaged: 2017-11-21 07:29:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/595077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cat_77/pseuds/cat_77
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Christmas is coming, the goose is getting fat, pleased to put a penny in the old man's hat.  If you haven't got a penny, a ha'penny will do.  If you haven't got a ha'penny, well then god bless you!</i>  </p>
<p>Or, you know, Merry Winter, Avengers style.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Ha'Penny Will Do

**Author's Note:**

  * For [azuremonkey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/azuremonkey/gifts).



> Written for azuremonkey for avengers_xchng. I kinda ran with the fluffy holiday theme, with a bit of a mission and a tiny bit of background of a certain pairing, if you squint. I hope you like the attempt.
> 
> * * *

The first Christmas at the newly named Avengers Tower, Clint had no idea what to expect. He and Natasha had been through many long years together at SHIELD, but never really celebrated Christmas per se as much as a generic winter holiday season. Neither of them had rich backgrounds draped in tradition, and neither of them were necessarily in a country that celebrated a traditional Christmas when the twenty-fifth of December rolled around each year.

He remembered years when they actually had the time to wrap little baubles in silly paper, and remembered years when a candy bar was tossed down on a table as one of them left for yet another mission, a bow made of a post-it note or twist tie stuck in the center. One memorable year, it was an exchange of bandages and the last of a tin of half-cooked beans while they waited for evac. It was because of this that he had no idea just what his teammates had planned, if anything at all.

He figured it was best to wait them out. He wasn't going to actually spy on them, not really, but he was going to check their patterns, see if anything changed, see if he could spot some grand plan in the mix so he would know whether he needed to bother with shopping, or needed to keep his distance should one or more need a private moment.

Despite what Stark may accuse, he did not actually lurk in the air vents about the tower... unless he really needed to. Instead, he set up a routine in advance of wandering around seemingly aimlessly, never quite encroaching on the others' spaces, but keeping enough to the edges to see what there was to be seen.

It was by doing this that he found Steve Rogers trawling through the internet, nostalgic images of times of old and classic winter scenes scrolling by. The pictures changed the quickest when it was some ritzy shebang or a decadent meal depicted, but the simple woodland scenes, the children gathered around a sparse tree with tiny little homespun packages, and the loving family skating at a frozen pond would make him dawdle and pause, an almost regretful look to eyes, his shoulders slumped just a bit more than standard parade rest.

It took all of two minutes to talk Nat and Bruce and even Tony to buy in to his plan. Steve's expression when he found the envelope full of tickets to skating version of The Nutcracker was a thing of beauty. With suggestions from the others, they rounded out the evening with skating of their own at Rockefeller Center and some truly decadent hot chocolate in front of the night skyline back at the tower.

Steve smiled a lot more after that, and kept looking wistfully out the windows instead of at a computer screen, at least when he wasn't secreted away from even Clint's perusal, so Clint considered the experiment a success. He also considered the good Captain America was likely up to something, but decided to let him have his secrets, at least for now. If or when Steve decided to share with the rest of the class was up to him.   
Besides, Clint had other fish to fry, or at least other teammates to try to figure out.

He caught Nat sneaking into Bruce's lab to drop off a small wooden box of tea procured by dubious means and possibly not of an origin he could pronounce. She left no note or card, but he caught Bruce sneaking into her study the very next day and leaving behind a delicate cup and saucer, the card not signed but an obvious invitation to share.

He picked up an electric kettle that would fit on a shelf in the lab and a large box of some far less exotic mixed teas. To that, he added two novelty cups shaped like The Other Guy's green fists, and lollipops shaped like snowmen that worked great as swizzle sticks. Bruce's laughter, deep and true, was a better present than anything else the good Doctor Banner could have ever given him in return.

Natasha's present was easy, and not just because he knew her the best. He found a set of ornaments carefully hand-painted with the Twelve Days of Christmas and stuck them to the walls of her room with little rubber tipped darts. He would have preferred to put one up a day, but knew they had gone far too long without a mission for a guarantee that pattern would stick. Besides, it was hard enough to find a single time to break into her room without either her or their teammates getting suspicious. Working with a bunch of super-powered and well-trained operatives had its downfalls at times, and this would appear to be one of them.

He got back to his rooms to find her gift laid out across his dresser. His laugh rivaled Bruce's as he took in the little matryoshka-style dolls, built to nestle neatly inside one another, painted to look like the team. The Hulk was the largest, followed by Thor, then Cap, then Iron Man, then him, complete with painted bow. She was the smallest, and was drawn to hold a tiny little blue box in her hands that looked eerily like the Tesseract that had brought them all together. He had no idea where she had found such a thing, or if she herself had created them with yet another hidden talent. He just knew that the effort, as always, was appreciated, and that she had one-upped him once again.

He had no idea what to get Thor, who didn't exactly celebrate Midgardian holidays on Asgard and seemed to constantly be traveling between the tower, Asgard, and wherever Jane happened to be. He eventually figured the big guy would like anything traditionally Earth-like, the cheesier the better, and possibly beer. He found a stocking hat with a pattern designed to look like the wings of his war helmet on the side, mittens knit in silver and red, and a bar that served god-sized beers and elk and venison appetizers.

He woke in the morning to hangover like no other, and to a delicate snow globe next to the painted wood dolls on his dresser. It took a hot shower and an oversized mug of coffee to see it clearly, but inside was a hawk perched upon a tree, its wings dusted with glittery white very time he shook it.

Tony, of course, was a bitch to shop for. What did you get for a man who not only had it all, but could buy spare copies? 

He lurked as close to Stark's shop as he could manage, spying in through the wall of glass. He saw a growing pile of little neatly wrapped boxes with no names but color coded in a fairly obvious manner, new ones appearing each day with no sign as to what they were or what they could hold and Clint was watching, really and truly. Tony would smirk at him in the hallways or over dinner, obviously having spotted him and figuring he was eying to sort out what he was getting, but providing absolutely no clue as to what he should get the arrogant ass himself.

It turned out that the inevitable mission solved that for him. There were bad guys, multiple, and machines, multiple, and shooting and blasting and Thor having a wonderful time showing people that there really was such a thing as "thunder snow" and that he was happy to demonstrate just what it was for all involved.

Cap was calling out orders, but only some of them were practical let alone possible as the bad guys and their toys kept moving, kept changing, kept making Clint doubt Christmas dinner would be anything other than the blandest SHIELD Medical had to offer. He picked off one guy as Captain America's shield sliced through the mechanical menace behind him, both simply nodding in thanks before moving on to the next challenge.

Nat got pinned down for all of about a minute. Clint moved in to try to get an angle on her attacker, but found it was entirely unnecessary as the Hulk not only smashed his way through to her, but gave her a boost up to her next target. He turned to both check on Iron Man and await Stark's next snarky commentary, when he realized they had it all wrong.

The bots and the bad guys were not much more than a really persistent distraction, with the true force going after Iron Man himself. They had managed to force him up against a solid wall of steel and were going to town on him. They wanted the suit. No, it was more than that, Clint realized as one of the machines ripped at the chest plate. They wanted the arc reactor inside, and could care less if Tony came with it.

A shot took out the servos of the one doing the most damage. Another took out the man lurking in the shadows controlling the damn things. A few more took down the next robot that was trying to live out its programming, and a swift kick to the head took out the idiot that tried to make a physical grab while Tony was still trapped by the damaged suit.

He got to him first while the others battled the last of the baddies and, while he didn't know much about the tech, he knew the little glowy light should be actually coming from Tony's chest and not hanging loose by what looked to be a single wire. Stark looked to be in pain, and kinda out of it really, but managed to talk Clint through reinstalling the little nightlight that kept him alive.

"This totally counts as your Christmas present, just so you know," he said as he wiped what Tony swore was not a bodily fluid on his trousers. "Like, seriously, because I have no fucking idea what else to get you."

The suit powered up and may have possibly been the only thing keeping Tony standing as he smiled wanly and clamped one of his death ray bedecked gauntlets on Clint's shoulder to assure him, "Trust me, it counts." He then blasted the remaining robots to bits too small for even SHIELD to ever rebuild and made Clint promise to say it was entirely necessary and not at all vengeful. Clint asked if he needed a bow or a card, but they both decided the bow worked best as he let loose an arrow to blow one last and annoyingly persistent machine to smithereens.

The team got home, bloodied, bruised, and covered with robot dust, to find a crew setting up what looked to be one hell of a Christmas dinner. There was turkey and ham and what looked to be a curry of all things, but it had Banner's mouth watering, and breads and cookies and pie.

"Um, this was supposed to be a surprise," Tony explained a little sheepishly. Pepper and Jane appeared in the doorway, looking a little more than a little shell shocked at the team's appearance, and Tony winced, "So were they."

The rest of the guests arrived as soon as they finished filling out preliminary reports and paperwork, but it gave the others a chance to wash up and sit down for a meal in something other than grime encrusted battle gear. Fury brought booze, Hill brought more booze, and Coulson brought file folders for them to sign off on which was his version of a present actually as it meant they didn't have to write it up themselves so Clint went with it.

The food was good, the conversation even better, and the company fantastic. They talked and ate and then ate and talked far into the night. Clint felt his eyes begin to droop after yet another mug of honest-to-fuck mulled wine. Natasha and Coulson helped him stumble back to his room around the time Stark decided to teach Thor lewd versions of various Christmas carols, and Nat was nice enough not to point out the self-bandaged slice across his bicep she found during a less than subtle pat down, so he decided not to tease her about the way Bruce damn near hand fed her every single tea cake that he found from Tony's well-stocked platters. 

He did, however, tease Coulson when he left a mug do sadly non-alcoholic cider and a small plate of cookies on the bedside table. Phil, of course, simply raised an eyebrow and drily replied, "It's a readymade apology for when you inevitably put an arrow through Santa's ass come midnight."

Clint couldn't argue with that, especially considering "Santa" was just as likely to be a robot or one of his teammates in an ill-fitting costume, so he shoved a cookie in his mouth and curled up in his mess of bedding, crumbs and all.

He awoke far too early the next morning to the cry of, "Presents! Come and get them or they're all mine!"

He fumbled out of bed and eyed the missing plate of cookies and the oversized candy cane that replaced them. He drank the left over cider to wash the stale taste of booze from his mouth, splashed water on his face from the sink in his bathroom, grabbed his robe, and headed out to see what had Stark so riled up at oh-dark-thirty.

He had to admit that he was impressed. The carefully decorated tree from the night before stood shining and proud and looking like a tinsel fairy had vomited all over it. Beneath it was an overflowing horde of brightly wrapped packages, something he knew for a fact had not been there before.

Along the counter was a row of steaming mugs of hot chocolate, decorated with whipped cream and what appeared to be candy cane sprinkles, each neatly labeled with a name. He took the one with his scrawled across the white, and wandered in to fully assess the damage.

An electric fireplace had been brought in, ceramic logs glowing merrily, and lightly bulging stockings were laid in front of it. The usual overstuffed chairs and couches were lined with afghans and quilts of varying colors, and seemed to be coded for each team member. Clint sat down in the chair decorated in purple and black, and Natasha curled up on a couch beside him with her own black and red softness as she sipped her chocolate concoction.

"Stark went all out," he commented idly as he took a sip of his own. He licked the whipped cream off his lips and eyed the sheer ostentatiousness of it all.

"It's part of his gift to Rogers," Nat confided. "Steve wanted a traditional family Christmas, so Tony gave it to him, just with us standing in for, you know, family."

Clint gave the room a second pass with this new knowledge in mind, and realized it was not quite as bad as it had originally seemed. Homespun blankets and knit stockings, hand-wrapped packages under the tree, hot chocolate and the smell of what might be cinnamon roles baking - just on a slightly grander scale given the size of the team and the fact Tony never did anything by half. 

Bruce stumbled in, robe tied neatly around him, and both picked up his drink and sat down in his assigned place on the other side of the couch from Natasha looking for all the world to be in a daze. "This is, this is nice," he finally said, a whipped cream mustache across his upper lip.

Thor came in with Jane at his side, and she quickly rushed to explain that no, their home had not been invaded, but it was a holiday tradition on Midgard, and he nodded and looked at her like she was the insane one, which reminded Clint that this was not his first visit to this planet and likely would not be his last. He took great joy in his drink, and Clint took great joy in realizing there were four more with his name on it, as likely for his sweet tooth as much as his tendency to accidentally break anything crockery related. Jane's afghan looked to have the solar system crocheted across it, and she folded it neatly over her lap, only to have Thor wrap his own quilt edged with runes around her as well.

Steve, normally prompt in all things, was the last to arrive. He shuffled in uneasily, tugging his terrycloth robe over stripped broadcloth pajamas, while Pepper reassured him that the dress code was far more casual for the morning's activities. When he looked around to see the others clad similar to himself, he relaxed slightly. When he looked around at the mugs and fireplace and stockings, his eyes opened wide in awe. "Wow," he finally said when he found the words.

"Merry Christmas!" Tony exclaimed from his spot behind the mug bedecked counter.

"You didn't..." he started, but Tony cut him off.

"Yes, we did," he assured him. He made little shooing motions with his hands as if that was the end of any potential discussion, and it probably was, and grinned, "Now grab your chocolate, take your seat, and let's get to the good part!"

The good part, per Stark, was of course the presents. There was a protocol to be followed, however, and he was very insistent upon it.

The blankets and chocolate came first, and he seemed pleased everyone had so neatly complied. Next came the stockings, with each person to take theirs back to their assigned seats to open and revel and possibly brag about what they held inside. 

Clint dumped the contents of his in his lap and did not even try to hold back his anticipatory grin, even as a small part of his mind mused on the fact three stockings remained, neatly labeled "Hill," "Fury," and "Agent." His own had been filled with a mix sweets and tiny little baubles, which confused him until he took a closer look.

The sweets were not just the kind you pick up at the corner market. There was something from damn near every country his public file admitted to him having missions in, and a few from places Stark would have only known about it he hacked at least the first two layers. He popped one of the grape things from Colombia that he had only ever heard called "dulces" into his mouth, and went to toss a strawberry one to Nat, only to find her tossing him one of the same. She also seemed to have a fair share of the little chocolate creations he had found in St. Petersburg and he tried his luck begging one of those off of her in exchange for a full Aero bar. She must have been in the holiday spirit as she actually agreed to the trade and offered her version of a laugh as she caught her bounty.

Clint looked around to find that whole holiday spirit thing must have been spreading as everyone seemed to be enjoying whatever they had been given. He saw the little curried fruits of Bruce's and the old school penny candy style stuff of Steve's and the weird mixture of everything of Thor's and wondered if anyone else was up for a trade even as he debated keeping all the good stuff for himself.

He turned his attention to the baubles and found they were, well, baubles. There were spinning tops and yo-yos and even a Slinky in every stocking. When Tony decided to go old school for Christmas, he really went old school. And if the gleeful expressions on everyone's faces were anything to go by, his attempt was a rousing success. Steve looked both overwhelmed and touched as he pulled out the red, white, and blue spiral of metal to play with, and Bruce was patiently showing Thor how to work a yo-yo despite Nat's insistence the toy could still be used in far deadlier of ways, as evidenced by Jane's attempt that nearly knocked Pepper in the side of the head. Pepper took it all in stride, but less than subtly suggested Jane listen in on Bruce's lessons as she took a sip of a mug of chocolate that may or may not have been augmented with something stronger than mint.

Tony gave them a few minutes to enjoy before he insisted that they move on to the main event. It was... not what Clint had expected.

He had thought Tony would wow them all with tech, give them the latest and greatest phones and gear and maybe some new weaponry to play with. Apparently he considered such things an everyday event, or far too work related. Instead, everyone received a present personalized for their likes and vices, something you would expect from a decently well-off friend or family member and not from one of the richest men in the world.

For Cap, it was an art set with a pop-up easel, paints and pencils and brushes of damned good quality, but nothing to cry over if something broke or a project went horrifically wrong. He smiled happily and thanked Stark profusely and Clint forced himself to remember that, for Steve, for the broke kid growing up in Brooklyn half a century ago, it was probably more than he had ever dreamed of.

Bruce received an honest and true children's chemistry set, only it was the kind like they made in the 1950's where you could mix toxic chemicals and make things explode. He paused, wrapping paper still half hanging off the side, to stare at it. He then stared at Tony. One more glance back at the kit, and a huge grin spread across his face as he enthused, "We are going to have so much fun with this!"

Natasha's came in a small velvet box and was crystalline and vaguely arachnid in shape. She snapped it shut before Clint could get a good look at it, but there was a chance it was either jewelry or one of the carved crystal things by the company he could never pronounce the name of. She looked pleased and offered a rare true smile, box clutched closer than the little grilyahz candies that he knew for a fact she coveted and that he would try and fail to steal from her later that day.

Thor's gift was a hodgepodge of movies and music. There was everything from Icelandic folk music to modern techno mixes and there was at least one copy of the Kirk Douglas classic "The Vikings" peeking out from the stack. Jane was giggling beside him while she opened copies of Carl Sagan's "Cosmos" and Jodie Foster's "Contact."

Curious to know what Stark had chosen for him, he ripped open the wrapping and let out a laugh at what he found: Neatly wrapped in carefully folded foiled paper was the complete series of Darkwing Duck and a mini popcorn maker with enough popcorn to last him at least a month. 

There were a few more sundries from and for various people laying about, but the thing that caught his eye the most was the line of thin rectangular packages with rounded corners and too much tape tucked behind the tree. He looked to Steve, who gestured in a sort of "go on then" kind of way, and so he dug them all out to pass out accordingly. Each one had a card with neat print dictating who it was to. They were not quite identical as originally thought, but roughly the same size with varying weights and he considered his curiosity sufficiently piqued.

Tony was already tearing into his, so Clint felt no qualms about not waiting for the others, especially Nat who was actually bothering with the card and everything. Beneath the paper he found a frame, and he realized that likely accounted for the variance in weight. Within the frame was a beautifully detailed drawing of a soaring skyline with a lone archer perched atop one of the roofs, bow at the ready as he kept watch.

"Wow, this is just... wow," he said, truly in awe of the talent on display before him. Steve was blushing with his head ducked low, but he glanced up when Clint told him, "Thank you for this."

Bruce was similarly as eloquent as Clint whereas Natasha rose silently, crossed the room, and kissed Steve softly on the cheek, her words too quiet for Clint to make out but doubtlessly something far more poignant than he managed. Thor seemed to take his lead from her as he kissed Steve soundly on each cheek and then pounded him just as soundly on the back.

Tony, for his part promised, "I'm not going to kiss you, but I am going to say thank you." He paused as he looked down at his own artwork, a depiction of him in all of his grease-covered glory, blowtorch in hand as he worked on the suit, and then he added, "Though I might request a commission or two in the future."

That just made Steve blush again, which led to at least three people seeking a distraction and Tony pointing and laughing good-naturedly. The distraction turned to discussion which turned to musing on holidays past which in turn turned to musing on holidays yet to come. They debated the chances of ever truly having a day off, and had moved on to worst villains and whether Santa would be counted friend or foe for his infiltration ways by the time they were all seated around the table, refreshed mugs of hot chocolate in hand, and a heaping breakfast spread out before them.

Clint stole another cinnamon roll and watched Thor down his third mug of sugary goodness while Natasha and Steve debated something that sounded oddly like old fashioned recipes and Tony and Bruce discussed something that sounded oddly like explosives and Pepper and Jane commiserated over something he knew better than to ask about, and thought that yeah, this was one tradition he definitely wouldn't mind repeating.

 

End.


End file.
